


Take Your Mind Off

by WorldOfDemons



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5038744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorldOfDemons/pseuds/WorldOfDemons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to a challenge on Tumblr <br/>Reader bakes a Sweet Potato Pie to Dean's protest. You decide to distract him while the pie is baking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Your Mind Off

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a challenge on Tumblr, check it out. :) 
> 
> Capricorn: Very ambitious, but very patient, takes care of the home very well (which I thought was great for baking a pie) and Capricorns can be very confident. 
> 
>  
> 
> So I based this very heavily on myself. I am from Georgia, and the story about the reader and her dad is true for me. I’ve been missing my dad lately so that’s why I asked to do Sweet Potato (read the story, it’ll make more sense). I am by no means dedicating a smut fic to my dad, but the pie just made me think of him so that’s that explained. It’s a bit shorter than I wanted, but here it is!

You laughed at Dean’s scoffing as you continued to roll out the pie dough.

            “You don’t just cross pie and vegetables, Y/N.” He proclaimed. He was leaning against the counter, very much in your way. You danced around him and grabbed the cooked sweet potatoes off of the stove.

            “What can I tell ya, Dean? It’s a Southern thing. This was my dad’s favorite. When I was growing up, I would always make it with him in the fall. Figured you’d like southern things. You like me well enough.” You threw a smirk at him and continued your work. You were born and raised in Georgia and had the accent to prove it. You usually hated it, but according to Dean it was one of the reasons he fell in love with you.

            “I need a chart,” he grumbled as he moved to the other side of the island in the kitchen.

 “A list of things you can pie and things you can’t.” You poured the filling into the piecrust and popped it into the oven.

            “Cherries you can pie. Apples, pecans, you can pie.” He listed.

“Key lime – iffy but okay, but you’ve crossed the line with sweet potatoes, Y/N.” You leaned on the kitchen island opposite of where Dean was sitting on a stool. It was as if the idea of a pie with vegetables offended Dean on a personal level. You laughed shaking your head.

            “Do you fight this hard about pumpkin pie?” Dean mulled it over for a second.

            “If it’s not Thanksgiving, yes.” He finally settled. You rolled your eyes.  

            “You know…” you started. “Sam’s gone.” You walked around the counter and wrapped your arms around his waist. You leaned up and whispered in his ear.

            “Maybe I can do something to take your mind off of the horror that is Sweet Potato Pie.” He twisted around in your arms.

            “You think?” You nodded innocently. You pulled him off the stool and he leaned against the counter. You slowly sunk to your knees; you unbuttoned his jeans and tugged them down. You pulled his jeans to the floor and his boxers along with them. You took his cock gently in your hand before gently wrapping your lips around it. You held in a smile as Dean gasped.

            “God, Y/N.” His hand came down and twisted into your hair – not forcibly, but he needed something to hold on to. You slowly took more and more of him into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You pulled out slightly and hollowed out your cheeks, sucking hard. You looked up at Dean; his eyes were screwed shut as he tried to hold on.

            “Don’t want to finish in your mouth, Y/N.” But you held him in place until he came hard. He was breathing heavy as he pulled you from your knees and lifted you effortlessly onto the counter he ripped your gym shorts off. He quickly slipped a finger into you. Your hands flew to his shoulders and he added another and his thumb brushed against your clit. He leaned in close and kissed your neck harshly.

            “You knew I didn’t want to do that, little girl.” You gasped as he stretched you with three fingers. He pulled you close to his chest.

            “You made me cum, so it’s only fair I return the favor.” You clung to his back as he pumped his fingers relentlessly.

            “Come on, babe. Come for me.” You screamed his name as he curled his fingers just right and you came hard on his fingers. His free hand wrapped around you face as he kissed you harshly. He pulled his hand out of you and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you even closer. You wrapped your legs around his waist. He pulled away from your mouth and attacked the side of you neck leaving angry red marks in his wake.

            “God, I need to be in you.” He muttered. He pulled you so you were barely perched on the counter top and he lined himself up with you. He gently pushed a piece of hair out of your face.

            “Ready?” He asked. You nodded and he slammed into you. You gripped tightly to his shoulders and moaned loudly as he filled you perfectly.

            “Holy shit.” Dean breathed as he pulled out and then filled you again. He quickly settled into a steady rhythm as you both moved together.

            “You’re going to make me cum again, aren’t you? That’ll be twice, back to back.” He muttered in your ear. “And you can do that, because that’s what you do to me, isn’t it?” You could only whimper in response to his words.

            “And you’re going to cum again too, aren’t you little girl?” You moaned as he nipped at your ear and his hand moved down to your find your clit.

            “Shit, Dean.” You gasped at the pressure.

            “Come with me, Y/N.” He grunted. Both of you were pushed over the edge shouting each other’s names. Dean slumped against you breathing heavy and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders pulling him close. After getting control of himself, he reached across the counter and grabbed a paper towel cleaning both of you off. After tossing the towel away he made his way back to your arms, his head falling to your shoulder as you pressed yours to the crook of his neck.

            “You know,” you muttered. “I got whipped cream to go on the pie.” You could feel his smirk grow.

            “Round two?” He asked; his quip was muffled by your skin.

            “We have to do something while the pie cools down.”  


End file.
